choices

Surviving The Shit Storm

The energy since the first of the year has been intense. No, it is not your imagination. It has been howl at the moon, scare small children, eat an entire pizza by yourself level intense. But as fate, or luck, or all our answered prayers would have it, it is leveling the fuck out.

The good part has been that it cleaned out all the muck. Good way to start the new Year – muck free, don’t you agree?

One friend asked her massage therapist last week to virtually “get in
there with a Q-tip.” I like that. Getting into the corners and crevices and really digging that shit out.

This energy, bless it’s heart, cleaned out our collective closets. It shook all of our Etch-A-Sketchs. It threw all the plates in the air. It emptied the refrigerator, even way back on the bottom shelf.

You get the picture.

But that can make life VERY uncomfortable.
Some people get sick in response, ‘cause if you’re in bed, binging on Netflix, you don’t have to deal with the shitstorm…yet.
Others are just pissed off. Cantankerous bastards who keep yelling “get out of my way!” We can forgive them though, right? Hey, their Etch-A-Sketch is blank – and the glass is cracked.

I took the coward’s way out. Kidding, but only a little.
I meditated, went to the movies, wrote and slept, as I waited for the shitstorm to pass. Oh, and I played this little ditty on an endless loop. You remember this from earlier this summer. Deva Premal, her voice and this chant in particular, lull me into a sort of coping coma.
If this is playing in the background, I can read the snarky email, deliver the bad news, eat the last of the disgusting holiday leftovers, listen to someone’s squed logic, and watch three minutes of CNN (with the sound off, it’s easier to stomach that way and hey, the ticker says it all).

All that to say, here it is again. Let it help the dust to settle. Let the sound and the calming effect arrange the dust in a more pleasing pattern, so that when we all emerge in the next week, from our caves of confusion, things will make sense…or at least look better.

Happy Sunday
xox

Mark Manson On Life Purpose

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* Happy Saturday Loves!
My sister sent this to me and…I LOVED IT, and I had to share it with you! And I soooo needed to hear it!
I think Mark may be my much cooler brother-from-another-mother.
Enjoy!
xoxJanet

“One day, when my brother was 18, he waltzed into the living room and proudly announced to my mother and me that one day he was going to be a senator. My mom probably gave him the “That’s nice, dear,” treatment while I’m sure I was distracted by a bowl of Cheerios or something.

But for fifteen years, this purpose informed all of my brother’s life decisions: what he studied in school, where he chose to live, who he connected with and even what he did with many of his vacations and weekends.

And now, after almost half a lifetime of work later, he’s the chairman of a major political party in his city and the youngest judge in the state. In the next few years, he hopes to run for office for the first time.

Don’t get me wrong. My brother is a freak. This basically never happens.

Most of us have no clue what we want to do with our lives. Even after we finish school. Even after we get a job. Even after we’re making money. Between ages 18 and 25, I changed career aspirations more often than I changed my underwear. And even after I had a business, it wasn’t until I was 28 that I clearly defined what I wanted for my life.

Chances are you’re more like me and have no clue what you want to do. It’s a struggle almost every adult goes through. “What do I want to do with my life?” “What am I passionate about?” “What do I not suck at?” I often receive emails from people in their 40s and 50s who still have no clue what they want to do with themselves.

Part of the problem is the concept of “life purpose” itself. The idea that we were each born for some higher purpose and it’s now our cosmic mission to find it. This is the same kind of shitty logic used to justify things like spirit crystals or that your lucky number is 34 (but only on Tuesdays or during full moons).

Here’s the truth. We exist on this earth for some undetermined period of time. During that time we do things. Some of these things are important. Some of them are unimportant. And those important things give our lives meaning and happiness. The unimportant ones basically just kill time.

So when people say, “What should I do with my life?” or “What is my life purpose?” what they’re actually asking is: “What can I do with my time that is important?”

This is an infinitely better question to ask. It’s far more manageable and it doesn’t have all of the ridiculous baggage that the “life purpose” question does. There’s no reason for you to be contemplating the cosmic significance of your life while sitting on your couch all day eating Doritos. Rather, you should be getting off your ass and discovering what feels important to you.

One of the most common email questions I get is people asking me what they should do with their lives, what their “life purpose” is. This is an impossible question for me to answer. After all, for all I know, this person is really into knitting sweaters for kittens or filming gay bondage porn in their basement. I have no clue. Who am I to say what’s right or what’s important to them?

But after some research, I have put together a series of questions to help you figure out for yourself what is important to you and what can add more meaning to your life.

These questions are by no means exhaustive or definitive. In fact, they’re a little bit ridiculous. But I made them that way because discovering purpose in our lives should be something that’s fun and interesting, not a chore.

  1. WHAT’S YOUR FAVORITE FLAVOR OF SHIT SANDWICH AND DOES IT COME WITH AN OLIVE?

Ah, yes. The all-important question. What flavor of shit sandwich would you like to eat? Because here’s the sticky little truth about life that they don’t tell you at high school pep rallies:

Everything sucks, some of the time.

Now, that probably sounds incredibly pessimistic of me. And you may be thinking, “Hey Mr. Manson, turn that frown upside down.” But I actually think this is a liberating idea.

Everything involves sacrifice. Everything includes some sort of cost. Nothing is pleasurable or uplifting all of the time. So the question becomes: what struggle or sacrifice are you willing to tolerate? Ultimately, what determines our ability to stick with something we care about is our ability to handle the rough patches and ride out the inevitable rotten days.

If you want to be a brilliant tech entrepreneur, but you can’t handle failure, then you’re not going to make it far. If you want to be a professional artist, but you aren’t willing to see your work rejected hundreds, if not thousands of times, then you’re done before you start. If you want to be a hotshot court lawyer, but can’t stand the 80-hour workweeks, then I’ve got bad news for you.

turd-sandwichWhat unpleasant experiences are you able to handle? Are you able to stay up all night coding? Are you able to put off starting a family for 10 years? Are you able to have people laugh you off the stage over and over again until you get it right?

What shit sandwich do you want to eat? Because we all get served one eventually.

Might as well pick one with an olive.

  1. WHAT IS TRUE ABOUT YOU TODAY THAT WOULD MAKE YOUR 8-YEAR-OLD SELF CRY?

When I was a child, I used to write stories. I used to sit in my room for hours by myself, writing away, about aliens, about superheroes, about great warriors, about my friends and family. Not because I wanted anyone to read it. Not because I wanted to impress my parents or teachers. But for the sheer joy of it.

And then, for some reason, I stopped. And I don’t remember why.

We all have a tendency to lose touch with what we loved as a child. Something about the social pressures of adolescence and professional pressures of young adulthood squeezes the passion out of us. We’re taught that the only reason to do something is if we’re somehow rewarded for it.

It wasn’t until I was in my mid-20s that I rediscovered how much I loved writing. And it wasn’t until I started my business that I remembered how much I enjoyed building websites — something I did in my early teens, just for fun.

The funny thing though, is that if my 8-year-old self had asked my 20-year-old self, “Why don’t you write anymore?” and I replied, “Because I’m not good at it,” or “Because nobody would read what I write,” or “Because you can’t make money doing that,” not only would I have been completely wrong, but that 8-year-old boy version of myself would have probably started crying.

  1. WHAT MAKES YOU FORGET TO EAT AND POOP?

We’ve all had that experience where we get so wrapped up in something that minutes turn into hours and hours turn into “Holy crap, I forgot to have dinner.”

Supposedly, in his prime, Isaac Newton’s mother had to regularly come in and remind him to eat because he would go entire days so absorbed in his work that he would forget.

I used to be like that with video games. This probably wasn’t a good thing. In fact, for many years it was kind of a problem. I would sit and play video games instead of doing more important things like studying for an exam, or showering regularly, or speaking to other humans face-to-face.

It wasn’t until I gave up the games that I realized my passion wasn’t for the games themselves (although I do love them). My passion is for improvement, being good at something and then trying to get better. The games themselves — the graphics, the stories — they were cool, but I can easily live without them. It’s the competition — with others, but especially with myself — that I thrive on.

And when I applied that obsessiveness for improvement and self-competition to an internet business and to my writing, well, things took off in a big way.

Maybe for you, it’s something else. Maybe it’s organizing things efficiently, or getting lost in a fantasy world, or teaching somebody something, or solving technical problems. Whatever it is, don’t just look at the activities that keep you up all night, but look at the cognitive principles behind those activities that enthrall you. Because they can easily be applied elsewhere.

  1. HOW CAN YOU BETTER EMBARRASS YOURSELF?

Before you are able to be good at something and do something important, you must first suck at something and have no clue what you’re doing. That’s pretty obvious. And in order to suck at something and have no clue what you’re doing, you must embarrass yourself in some shape or form, often repeatedly. And most people try to avoid embarrassing themselves, namely because it sucks.

Ergo, due to the transitive property of awesomeness, if you avoid anything that could potentially embarrass you, then you will never end up doing something that feels important.

Yes, it seems that once again, it all comes back to vulnerability.

Right now, there’s something you want to do, something you think about doing, something you fantasize about doing, yet you don’t do it. You have your reasons, no doubt. And you repeat these reasons to yourself ad infinitum.

But what are those reasons? Because I can tell you right now that if those reasons are based on what others would think, then you’re screwing yourself over big time.

If your reasons are something like, “I can’t start a business because spending time with my kids is more important to me,” or “Playing Starcraft all day would probably interfere with my music, and music is more important to me,” then OK. Sounds good.

But if your reasons are, “My parents would hate it,” or “My friends would make fun of me,” or “If I failed, I’d look like an idiot,” then chances are, you’re actually avoiding something you truly care about because caring about that thing is what scares the shit out of you, not what mom thinks or what Timmy next door says.

Living a life avoiding embarrassment is akin to living a life with your head in the sand.

Great things are, by their very nature, unique and unconventional. Therefore, to achieve them, we must go against the herd mentality. And to do that is scary.

Embrace embarrassment. Feeling foolish is part of the path to achieving something important, something meaningful. The more a major life decision scares you, chances are the more you need to be doing it.

  1. HOW ARE YOU GOING TO SAVE THE WORLD?

In case you haven’t seen the news lately, the world has a few problems. And by “a few problems,” what I really mean is, “everything is fucked and we’re all going to die.”

I’ve harped on this before, and the research also bears it out, but to live a happy and healthy life, we must hold on to values that are greater than our own pleasure or satisfaction.1

So pick a problem and start saving the world. There are plenty to choose from. Our screwed up education systems, economic development, domestic violence, mental health care, governmental corruption. Hell, I just saw an article this morning on sex trafficking in the US and it got me all riled up and wishing I could do something. It also ruined my breakfast.

Find a problem you care about and start solving it. Obviously, you’re not going to fix the world’s problems by yourself. But you can contribute and make a difference. And that feeling of making a difference is ultimately what’s most important for your own happiness and fulfillment.

Now, I know what you’re thinking. “Gee Mark, I read all of this horrible stuff and I get all pissed off too, but that doesn’t translate to action, much less a new career path.”

Glad you asked…

  1. GUN TO YOUR HEAD, IF YOU HAD TO LEAVE THE HOUSE ALL DAY, EVERY DAY, WHERE WOULD YOU GO AND WHAT WOULD YOU DO?

For many of us, the enemy is just old-fashioned complacency. We get into our routines. We distract ourselves. The couch is comfortable. The Doritos are cheesy. And nothing new happens.

This is a problem.

What most people don’t understand is that passion is the result of action, not the cause of it.

Discovering what you’re passionate about in life and what matters to you is a full-contact sport, a trial-and-error process. None of us know exactly how we feel about an activity until we actually do the activity.

So ask yourself, if someone put a gun to your head and forced you to leave your house every day for everything except for sleep, how would you choose to occupy yourself? And no, you can’t just go sit in a coffee shop and browse Facebook. You probably already do that. Let’s pretend there are no useless websites, no video games, no TV. You have to be outside of the house all day every day until it’s time to go to bed — where would you go and what would you do?

Sign up for a dance class? Join a book club? Go get another degree? Invent a new form of irrigation system that can save the thousands of children’s lives in rural Africa? Learn to hang glide?

What would you do with all of that time?

If it strikes your fancy, write down a few answers and then, you know, go out and actually do them. Bonus points if it involves embarrassing yourself.

  1. IF YOU KNEW YOU WERE GOING TO DIE ONE YEAR FROM TODAY, WHAT WOULD YOU DO AND HOW WOULD YOU WANT TO BE REMEMBERED?

Most of us don’t like thinking about death. It freaks us out. But thinking about our own death surprisingly has a lot of practical advantages. One of those advantages is that it forces us to zero in on what’s actually important in our lives and what’s just frivolous and distracting.

When I was in college, I used to walk around and ask people, “If you had a year to live, what would you do?” As you can imagine, I was a huge hit at parties. A lot of people gave vague and boring answers. A few drinks were nearly spit on me. But it did cause people to really think about their lives in a different way and re-evaluate what their priorities were.

What is your legacy going to be? What are the stories people are going to tell when you’re gone? What is your obituary going to say? Is there anything to say at all? If not, what would you like it to say? How can you start working towards that today?

And again, if you fantasize about your obituary saying a bunch of badass shit that impresses a bunch of random other people, then again, you’re failing here.

When people feel like they have no sense of direction, no purpose in their life, it’s because they don’t know what’s important to them, they don’t know what their values are.

And when you don’t know what your values are, then you’re essentially taking on other people’s values and living other people’s priorities instead of your own. This is a one-way ticket to unhealthy relationships and eventual misery.

Discovering one’s “purpose” in life essentially boils down to finding those one or two things that are bigger than yourself, and bigger than those around you. And to find them you must get off your couch and act, and take the time to think beyond yourself, to think greater than yourself, and paradoxically, to imagine a world without yourself.”

Footnotes:
Sagiv, L., & Schwartz, S. H. (2000). Value priorities and subjective well-being: direct relations and congruity effects. European Journal of Social Psychology, 30(2), 177–198.
Wrzesniewski, A., McCauley, C., Rozin, P., & Schwartz, B. (1997). Jobs, careers, and callings: People’s relations to their work. Journal of Research in Personality, 31(1), 21–33.
Newport, C. (2012). So Good They Can’t Ignore You: Why Skills Trump Passion in the Quest for Work You Love. Business Plus.

http://markmanson.net

FOMO – The Fear Of Missing Out – Jason Silva Sunday

Anxiety is the “Dizziness of Freedom” – Kierkegaard

Oh Brother – This is a big one for me! I’ve struggled since birth, with the anxiety of missing out on something.

As a kid I had the nickname of Corkie. As the story goes, I could lift my head to look around soon after birth. Being that it was a tad early to be weighing my options, my neck muscles were too underdeveloped to be “working the room” so to speak, so my head was unsteady, bobbing around “like a cork on the water”.
So there you go.

I was born with the perpetual desire to see what else was out there, what other interesting things I might be missing out on. I wasn’t dissatisfied with where I was, it was just…

Curiosity squared.

It caused me enough anxiety that at 17 I started my exploration of meditation and being here now – in the moment.

That was a foreign concept and I’ve struggled with it all my life. I can report that I’ve gotten better as I’ve grown older.
Not grown up, just older.

I realize that I may not be able to see ALL the options available, but it rarely makes me anxious anymore.
I’m learning that the Universe has put the ones that are the most relevant to my path; that will excite me and bring me the most joy – at my feet and in front of my face.

Whew.

Does the fear of missing out cause you anxiety? How do you handle it? Is it getting better? Or worse?

Love, love,
xox

Flashback Friday : A Chocolate Chip Cookie, Great Sex And A Movie

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* A few of you emailed me over the holidays with posts you thought should have been on the most popular list (I swear it wasn’t fixed, it’s analytics my friends).
This was one of those. Enjoy!
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All the world’s a stage,
And all the men and women merely players;
They have their exits and their entrances,
And one man in his time plays many parts.
~William Shakespeare

On top of writing this blog, putting together my book, my women’s group and modeling for Victoria’s Secret, I’m also birthing,(with my composer friend Les) a Broadway musical. (One of those may not be true – can you guess which one?)

It’s been such an interesting process and I’ll tell you why.
We have the whole story in our minds, we just have to get the characters to say, sing and do all right things to make that story come alive.
We’ve spent the last nine months letting the characters tell us who they are (their back story) so we can write the dialogue and songs that will suit them.
We HAVE to know their motivation before one word is spoken.

A favorite saying of mine is: even the villain has total conviction and thinks he’s doing the right thing.

When you think like that, it brings compassion, and the words that appear on the page never have a false note; they always ring true. (That, and a chocolate chip cookie sacrifice to my Muse every Friday as we brainstorm really helps.)

Imagine if we did that with our lives.
If we questioned our motivation with compassion, making sure to say and do the things that will move us forward in life.
If we could reverse engineer our paths and never make a false move.
Impossible right? And we really wouldn’t want to bypass some of those mistakes because they did lead us here, but…

You know when you’re engrossed in a movie and the main character, who you’ve fallen for, big time, does something stupid? 
They cuss out a co-worker and get fired, they choose the dangerous, douchy guy over the boring sweet guy, they sleep with a married man, they spend all their money on shoes, they drink and dial their ex, or they stand in front of the fridge at midnight finishing their kid’s birthday cake?

Don’t you just want to yell at the screen and throw popcorn? “NO! Don’t go there! Stop it! That is SO CLEARLY the wrong move! Ugh, now you’ve done it. How are you going to get out of that?”

Think Liz Gilbert (Julia Roberts) in Eat, Pray, Love, when she meets the young, boy toy actor (James Franco) and starts a fling, right on the heels of her divorce.
“No Liz, Don’t do it! Take some time alone. Don’t go there. He’s not right for you… Shit.”

You just know how that’s gonna end. We can all understand, we’ve been there.
It’s the sex – the blood leaves your brain, and it’s always phenomenal with completely inappropriate people.
It’s one of life’s great mysteries.

I have an exercise that I use in the woman’s group, to try to see the wrong moves before you make them, and I think it’ll help you with your future choices.
It’s a trick to get you to live more consciously.

Imagine your life as a movie. Right now.
In full HD color, on the big screen and YOU, are the star! (played by Kate Winslet or Reese Witherspoon, George Clooney or Hugh Jackman).
You can view, from afar, in your seat in the theatre, all the options in front of you and watch as the character (you) makes their choices.
Are you watching YOU take some chances, have adventures, fall in love, laugh and have fun? Or are YOU miserable, on unemployment, being a sad sack, staying in bed, eating cheesecake?

Are you yelling “yes! Great decision!” or “No! Turn around and walk away!”

Remember, You are extremely fond of YOU (hopefully) and you only want the best.

If viewed on the big screen, how are YOU doing?
Are you avoiding the pitfalls and dick-heads, or are you going for the instant gratification? (the great sex with the wrong people)

Pulling back and watching the movie of my life has helped me immeasurably in my decision-making. Sometimes I just shake my head, and other times I smile.

I’m really rooting for me.

One of my friends imagines herself atop an impossibly high mountain and looks down at the overview of her life. She’s done it for years and it helps her so much to gain a better perspective.
I love that.

Think about this the next time you come to a crossroads.
We all know deep down what’s right for us. What would you want the YOU in the movie to do?

I’m rooting for YOU.
Much Love,
Xox

This Shit / Feeling / Situation Is Only Temporary

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What do you do when you get depressed?

I’ve learned through the years that the best way to talk myself down from the ledge is to remind myself This too shall pass by repeating the mantra This_________ is only temporary.
It seems my endurance of all things sucky is fueled by the fact that I’m certain that nothing lasts forever.
Even my acne finally decided to hit the road.

This weekend during Rob Bell’s inspiring talk, he reiterated that philosophy with this quote: Depression comes when you believe that tomorrow will look just like today.

Doesn’t that make sense? And lighten your load?
My shoulders come down off my ears when I say that out loud.

Depression comes when you believe that tomorrow will look just like today. I can change that, I can turn my ship around.

To me, if I want to hitch myself to any emotion, it would be hope; because inside hope is change, and if I don’t like how things are panning out right now I can have the certainty that they will change.

The best thing about this belief is that WE don’t have to figure out how it’s going to change, we just have to KNOW that it will.

Haven’t you ever been low on cash and then someone who owed you money paid you back unexpectedly?

When that relationship with your soul mate, love of your life crashed and burned ten years ago someone else came along, right? And they were even better for you.

When you were so sick last fall, you recovered. You may have had that hacking cough for a month, but even that eventually went away. You probably didn’t even notice when it left.

See, that’s the thing, change is sneaky – and it’s humble. It doesn’t call attention to itself. It. just. happens.

I had a job at a grocery store after my divorce when I was in my twenties. I’d actually had it since I was fifteen in one capacity or another. At the time of my divorce I was a checker. Then I worked the night crew, stocking the shelves while you all slept, for extra money and to allow me to pursue acting, running to auditions during the day. I could work as much or as little as I wanted depending on my level of greed at any given moment.

At a certain point, around my thirtieth birthday to be exact; I decided, probably over alcohol, that I’d had enough of acting – AND the grocery business. I had NO idea what would come next for me, all I knew was that if tomorrow looked the same for much longer, I was going to be forced to join the circus to shake things up.

One afternoon while I was lying around moping, eating an entire pumpkin pie; my mom (who was well acquainted with my dissatisfaction with life) called to say she’d read about an antique mall that was opening on Melrose and was looking for part-time help. I loved antiques, so I immediately called, got an interview, and was hired on the spot.

I worked at the Melrose Antique Mall (which closed in the early nineties) by day, and at the market at night for about a year, until one day as a fluke, one of the girls that worked with me at the mall happened to mention a job she’d turned down working with real jewelry, at Antiquarius. It wasn’t the direction she wanted to take her life, but it sounded amazing to me, so I called, interviewed, and the rest is history.

I managed that store for just under twenty years and it was one of the unexpected joys of my life.

If you had asked me any day along that two-year transition what was next for me, I couldn’t have told you. All I knew was that even though I’d been working at the market for fifteen years, tomorrow could look different for me, it HAD to, and it kept me from falling into a deep pit of despair.

Not that deep pits of despair are unfamiliar to me; I just know by this stage of the game that there is a bottom, a ladder, and sunshine that can shine on your face – if you’ll just look up.

Believe a change is on the way – because it is – THAT I can guarantee.

Love you,
xox

* If you feel you are, or have been diagnosed as clinically depressed, please seek psychological treatment.

You’re Not the Boss Of ME! – REPRISE

Morning!
Someone asked me to re-post this – as a little reminder to leave some things up to chance…you never know, it could be fun.
Have a great weekend.
xoxJ

Ultimatums are rarely a good idea.

In life, in relationships and when dealing with the Universe.

When we are driven to taking this tactic, hands on our hips, lips pursed, loaded with attitude, wearing our bossy pants…we will lose.
Every time. And we’ve ALL done it.

Think about it, you have set your terms, made your demands and you are promising some kind of retaliation or an end to communication all together, if you don’t get the answer you desire.
First of all, that’s called emotional extortion, that’s a topic for another day.
Still, it seems like you have all the power… butcha don’t….Not really.

The final outcome lies in the hands of the receiver of the ultimatum.
It’s his call, he could end it all. Because YOU said so.
So NOW who’s got the power?

You know what the Universe says to an ultimatum?
“You’re not the boss of me”.

You know how I know that? Because it told me so.

Recently; like yesterday, I was giving the Universe my latest, in the long line of ultimatums I’ve been issuing and that “voice” chimed in:

Me: So, here’s the deal, you’ve gotta do “this thing” or I can’t make all this other stuff happen.

Uni: Don’t give me an ultimatum, you’re not the boss of me, give me choices.

Me: What do you mean, choices?

Uni: Give me your three most preferable choices,in descending order, from best to worst. I’ll take it from there.

Me: Why would I do that?

Uni: To maintain your flexibility. It also allows us to throw you a curve ball. Something amazing, that’s completely unexpected.

Me: But I really, strongly, feel that it has to go down a certain way.

Uni: You are acting stubborn and misguided.

Me: Don’t sugarcoat it, tell me how you really feel…Shit…okay.

After that, I did come up with three alternative scenarios that would work in that situation. Funny, earlier I was convinced there was only one.

So, I shot off a mental memo to the Universe, and sat back feeling relieved. I wasn’t nervously waiting for the shoe to drop, I knew it could go any number of ways and that would be fine.

I AM feeling more flexibility around my expectations.

I’m Gumby dammit!

Now I’ve got to go borrow a baseball mitt, gotta be ready for my curveball.

How about you?

Desire’s Remorse

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I rue the day I decided to become a business owner. The location was flawed, the timing was wrong, and ultimately it crashed and burned.

Well, not really, it drowned in a flood; but it died just the same, and it took a piece of me with it.

Being that it had been such a huge desire of mine to open that store; giving into that desire and making it happen just seemed like the natural course of events. But as I surveyed the aftermath and the giant face plant that my ego had barely survived; I started to have desire’s remorse. And not just about the store – I had it about a LOT of things.

Why had I married David at such a young age? We fucked up a perfectly good friendship taking it to that level. Divorce was inevitable.

Why had I pursued acting until thirty?
I’d be SO much farther along in life if I’d only just been quicker to read the writing on the wall.
Shit, I’d probably be Secretary of State right now.

Why had I died my hair red for the best ten years of my life?
Best years physically speaking being my thirties.
My body was bangin’, my boob were perky, the pimples were waning and the wrinkles hadn’t shown up yet.
We all know that all the smart, rich guys marry thirty something blondes in LA. The artsy, fartsy, unemployed, musicians and bohemians are the ones that go for the red heads.
I rest my case. 
Shit, I’d probably be Mark Cuban’s first ex wife by now. 

These were a few of the many desires that had lead me astray – or so I thought.

Now, looking back, I have the benefit of time. I’ve matured (somewhat) which helps me to come from a different perspective.
I agree with Steve. (married to a blonde)
I feel I can call him Steve; given that I know someone that works at Apple, I’ve spent a small fortune on his products, and the only book he had on his iPad, “The Autobiography of A Yogi,” currently lives on my nightstand.

This has been my enlightened conclusion:
I cannot recommend Desire’s regret. It no longer makes any sense. All of those desires have carried me to exactly where I stand today, and YOU too.

I tried marriage; I was able to commit, for a whole seven years and that says something about me, AND it didn’t suck enough to discourage me from trying again, this time with the right guy, for the right reasons.

I quit acting when I was good and ready. No one could have persuaded me to throw in the towel until I was good and God damn ready, and when I was, I worked just as hard on my new career, as a jeweler, and it actually made for a nice life.

I look back on the ten years of red hair as a blessing. I met some incredibly interesting men, not settling on the usual suspects; and when I was ready to finally settle down, I went back to blonde and naturally attracted the man of my dreams.

So there you have it. As I look back and connect my numerous desire filled dots, my remorse ebbs, and I can actually thank each and every one of them.

How about you?
Xox

Pound Cake, Complaints And Coffee

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I heard this story recently, about a woman who went home for the holidays.

Don’t twitch with anxiety, this isn’t about family hijinks – it’s about worthiness.

While she was in Ohio, Illinois or Iowa, you know – the cradle of civilization for transplanted Californians – she met with friends who were also there serving their sentence – I mean visiting family.

Inside one of those knotty pine kitchens with the avocado appliances, we all know the ones, they haven’t been touched since 1970; they all sat around the table catching up. Life it seems, had been good to this cross-section of her friends. They had kids in college, long-standing careers, minimal health issues, at least one living parent, and all their teeth; yet, the entire first hour was a bitch session.

It was as if the Complaining Olympics had come to town. She got so caught up in it, hoping to at least medal, (she could picture herself atop the podium, National Anthem playing) that she embellished her story about a car insurance claim gone south.
In actuality she had a pretty good life, would they judge her for it if she just said so?

Meanwhile, the host made a pot of coffee in a percolator, and cut up a Sara Lee pound cake to give them just the right amount of caffeine and sugar to maintain their energy – in order to keep the complaints coming.

It was the house he’d lived in since he was four, a two-story colonial, which since his mom had passed was occupied solely by his dad, who by all accounts continued to be robust and health -– but apparently clumsy as shit.

“Sorry guys, I can’t find any cups that match” he said sounding embarrassed as he laid out the cake with a selection of several random cups.

There was a mug from the local University, a flowered porcelain teacup with a tiny chip on the rim, a green Pottery Barn ceramic mug that looked as if it had once been part of a set, a plain, clear, glass cup, a tall, white, fancy looking cup that was fluted and flared at the top, and a large styrofoam cup from a stack on top of the fridge.

He, being the gracious host he was, poured his coffee into the styrofoam cup, everyone else jockeyed around, silently sizing up the remaining cups.

The one friend, a mom with five kids, took the plain glass one, handing the nice white one to her friend the attorney. “Oh, that’s too nice” her friend said, putting it back on the table, taking the dainty teacup even after she noticed the chip.

One of the guys took the college mug, after picking up the green cup from the set, and putting it back. After the other two got their cake, deferring the cup choice until everyone else had picked, one grabbed the Pottery Barn mug and the other reached up and got a styrofoam cup off the pile on the fridge.

No one chose the nice, white cup.

She was sure no one else noticed, but she did.

It was so interesting for her to observe what cups people chose.
It was like a small social experiment. Everyone left the fanciest cup for the other guy, until it stood alone, un chosen.

One of the men would rather drink from styrofoam than a fancy white cup. One of the women put it back and chose one with a chip.

What was all that about?

Worthiness. Apparently no one felt they deserved the nice cup.

Now, I’m gonna level a HUGE generalization here – that is SO Midwest.

If this little kitchen scene had taken place in LA – people would have pushed each other down to get the nicest cup; the chipped teacup would have been thrown in the trash, “That’s just dangerous” –– and NO ONE would have dared drink a hot beverage from styrofoam! “Studies have shown styrofoam to be carcinogenic and bad for the environment,” I can hear the attorney saying, citing a current class action suit that’s pending.

So, two questions: do you find yourself competing in a bitchfest when you reconnect with old friends, not being able to admit that you’re actually…happy? AND which cup would you have picked and why?

Don’t say you don’t drink coffee, this story works for you tea drinkers as well.

Xox

Pam and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day

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This is from the blog of Pam Grout – and it’s a great weekend reminder, we’ve ALL had the terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day! Read about her experience. Take it away Pam!

“Refuse to accept apparent delay and detour as anything other than the perfect path.” —U.S. Andersen

“Despite rumors to the contrary, I still feel like unflavored gelatin from time to time. I had one of those days this Tuesday. I was in Grand Haven, Michigan recording the audio version of my book, Living Big, at a fancy-schmancy studio owned by Amazon.com.

My flight had been delayed so I got in late the night before, I had to show up bright and early, I had a headache and the producer was quick to point out my glaring inability to pronounce such words as Dostoyevsky and joie de vivre.

Now, I know good and well that the only thing wrong in this situation was my attitude and my grumpy thoughts, but like a squid, I kept squirting out that woe-is-me ink that puts up a smoke screen between me and my highest intention, which is unceasing joy.

Finally, after leaving the studio and being unable to even muster the energy to walk very far along the gorgeous Lake Michigan beaches (I didn’t even leave my normal beach affirmation.), I returned to my hotel room and went to bed.

I woke up the next day feeling bright and sunny and was even grateful for the horrible, terrible, no good, very bad day.

Here’s why it was the best thing to ever happen to me:

  1. It made me achingly aware of how far I’ve come. Being disgruntled used to be way of life for me. Going back there for a little peek confirmed to me that it’s not much fun. And it made me appreciate even more that my life is now heading in a new direction.

  2. I was able to be kind to myself in spite of it all. Okay, so I had a less than stellar day. So what? I used my magic words (“It’s okay!”) and shrugged it off as the perfect unfoldment and realization (see point 1) that I’m on the right path.

3.Lastly, I finally learned how to pronounce my favorite word: Joie de vivre, a French word that pretty much describes my life now that I’ve officially broken up with discontent and grumpiness.”

Pam Grout is the author of 17 books including E-Squared: 9 Do-it-Yourself Energy Experiments that Prove Your Thoughts Create Your Reality and the just-released sequel, E-Cubed, 9 More Experiments that Prove Mirth, Magic and Merriment is your Full-Time Gig.

Happy Saturday!
xox

The Big White Dress – But At What Price?

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The phone was ringing. That’s odd, I thought, trying to clear away that cotton candy that inhabits your brain when you’ve just fallen asleep.

Only minutes earlier I’d turned off the light after struggling to stay awake while reading my latest self-help book, “The Road Less Traveled.”

“It has to be late”. I mumbled, rolling on my side to get a look at the time on the digital clock radio next to the bed. It was half past eleven.

Now it is my experience that good news is never on the other end of a phone that rings after eleven. Ever.

Either that person is drunk and dialing, picking a fight about something that happened a week ago, someone is sick or there’s been an accident.
This call ended up trumping all those things.

“Janet, sorry, are you awake? I know it’s late.” It was my friend Rita (not her real name).
Rita is one of the “herd”, as we were called, because of the level of noise that entered a room wherever we showed up, and because there were always seven of us.

Seven teenage girls attached at the hip through all four years of Catholic high school.
I’m sure you can imagine.

We shared everything teenage girls share, all the firsts.
First periods, first cigarettes, first joint, first drunk/sick night, first loves, and all the trouble, chaos and complications that boyfriends bring to a young girl’s life.

Now we were in our late twenties. Everyone was pairing up, I was the first, already married and divorced, Rita, the smart, choosy one, was the last. Several of us had left LA, but the following weekend there would be a reunion of sorts – Rita was getting married.

Yeah, sure, no problem, I’m awake…what’s up?” I sat up in bed.

I think Marco’s cheating on me” she started to cry.

What? Noooooo.” I said, lighting a cigarette. I was up now, sitting on the edge of the bed; this was in the days before mobile phones, although I did have a fifteen foot cord on my yellow push button telephone – so I could wander.

She was crying harder now, rustling papers in the background.
Still groggy, the cigarette was getting me high, had I heard correctly? “What are you talking about? What happened?” I asked. The rustling stopped.

“A woman called me yesterday; she claims she and Marco are in love – that they have been for a long time…she knew my name.” she spit out that last part, I could hear in her voice she was getting mad.

Oh. My. God.” I was frantically searching my drawers for an ashtray, but had to settle on a plant.

That’s bullshit, he loves YOU, you’re getting married in less than a week…” She interrupted, her voice agitated, almost yelling, “She told me to check the phone bill for her number; Janet, it’s on here over sixty times just this month, the same with last month and as far back as I…

Hold on a second, where is Marco?” They’d been living together since the engagement, but he had a job that took him out-of-town two weeks of every month, so us girls didn’t really know him all that well.

He’s in Atlanta until tomorrow night.”

Did you call him? What did he say?” This I had to hear.

Of course, the minute I hung up with her.”

And?…” I was dying to hear his explanation.

“Well he denied it, said she’s a girl from work, that she’s super needy, really insecure and kinda crazy. He explained that her number’s on the bill because they have to talk about work problems – he’s her supervisor. I know things have been super stressful at the office lately, with all the layoffs and personnel changes.” She was quiet for a minute.

“He started accusing ME of having cold feet.”

That didn’t sound right, but I stayed on script. “Okay, well see – she’s just a kook from work; he’ll set her straight honey.” I lit a cigarette with a cigarette, something I never did, but this situation called for it.

“That’s what I thought, but she called again tonight – I just got off the phone with her… and called you.” Her voice took on a desperate edge.

Shit” I suddenly went ice-cold.
There was a sweater in a pile of folded laundry that was waiting patiently on the chair to be put away; I pulled it on, switching the receiver from hand to hand, turned on the light, and started pacing – wandering the room.

“She’s been here – they’ve been here together, she described the condo and she described me! She’s seen me, she waits for me to leave! Get this – she says that I’m the girl he marries and has children with – but she’s the girl he loves. Fucking bitch!” That sent a jolt through my body. Rita NEVER used the “F-word.”

He was feeding that girl a crapsandwich. He was dishing out crap all over the place. It sounded like this guy was wading waist deep in crap.

I was speechless. She continued. “She said he’s Latin and that it’s a cultural thing.” She was crying again. “They laugh at me, she says they laugh about how unsuspecting I am, that I think I’m going to get married and ride off into the sunset…they laugh at me Janet.
As I listened to her sob, the tears filled my eyes and I started to sniffle, so I put the receiver to my chest so she couldn’t hear me.

After a long time I thought of something to say, “What does she want from you?
Rita cleared her throat, her exhausted voice was a whisper
She wants me to walk away, to break things off, otherwise at the wedding, when they ask who objects – she’s going to be there and tell everyone the truth.”

“That’s bullshit! That only happens on soap operas!” my voice was so loud it actually startled me.

Janet, what should I do? He’s just going to deny it. So what if she IS just a crazy girl from work, she’s still going to ruin my wedding!”

“Maybe when Marco comes home, you guys have a heart to heart; he has to figure this mess out… I don’t know, maybe postpone things…” Rita jumped in. “I can’t call off the wedding! I just wrote the balance check for the hall! This morning was the final fitting on my dress!” She was bordering on hysterical.

Okay, I know, listen.” My tone was firm.
If he’s cheating on you, you sure as hell are NOT going through with this wedding! I don’t care how much money is lost and how embarrassing it is. People will just have to get over themselves.”

Silence.

You know I’m right. I’ll help you. I can call people and…” She interrupted me. “I’m tired, I have to go; I’m sure when Marco comes home, this will all get settled.”

Her voice turned Stepford.
I’m sorry I called you so late, you’re right; it’s probably nothing.”

What was happening? I never said that. I never said it was nothing.

Goodnight” The line went dead.

I couldn’t sleep the rest of the night, and I struggled with whether I should share it with anyone else. The rest of the herd would be in town by the end of the week – if this whole thing didn’t blow up before then. I decided it was best to zip it.

The next time I saw Rita was at the rehearsal. I was singing Ave Maria and One Hand One Heart from West Side Story at the ceremony, so we did a run through.
She looked beautiful and happy, all smiles. Even when I searched her eyes while saying goodbye after the rehearsal dinner, there was no hint that anything was amiss. Marco sat surrounded by relatives from out-of-town – beaming.

So okay. They’d worked it out. It was one of those late night calls that you just chalk up to nerves and you forget it ever happened.

The next morning, up in the choir loft, after Rita’s entrance in her big, flowing, white gown, I watched from above, scanning the crowd. Marco’s family and friends on the right, and Rita’s giant Irish Catholic family on the left – and a mystery woman, in a huge hat, all in black, standing in the back.

Who was that? I bent waaaay over the ledge to try to catch a glimpse of her face, but short of doing a half gainer with a twist off that balcony – it wasn’t going to happen.

All black. To a wedding? Really bitch? My heart was pounding. Was this the “other woman” all set to ruin Rita’s special day?

I was helpless to do anything. It was time for the Ave Maria. The minute the song was over, the last note still reverberating, riding those incredible church acoustics, I ran back to the ledge, searching for the stranger in black – but she was gone.

I wish this story had a fairy tale ending…

As it turns out Marco did have another woman. Several actually. He let it be known right after Rita told him he was going to have a son. They tried to play happy family for a while, but I think the whole marriage lasted all of three years.

It’s been about thirty years and Rita hasn’t had a serious relationship since. She’s never been able to let herself trust a man again.

She got the big white dress – but at what price?

The thing that Rita really lost was the trust of her own internal navigation system. She stopped trusting herself. She’d known in her gut what was going on, even when he denied it, but she thought she was too far in to get out. She wanted to save face, to be married – only to be divorced a few years later, as a single mother.

We all do things we know in our hearts are doomed to fail.
We stay in situations that we know aren’t right, because we’re deeply invested.
But there can be a way out, there’s always way out.

Gut check – intuition – rumors – lies – denials.
WE KNOW.
If it feels bad – it probably is.

Have you ever found yourself in a similar situation? It’s not just about weddings. Did you get out? How did you do it?

much love,
xox

Hi, I’m Janet

Mentor. Pirate. Dropper of F-bombs.

This is where I write about my version of life. My stories. Told in my own words.

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